Good morning, friends. I have spent the last couple of days really sitting with and holding my feelings and thoughts – some very deep ones stemmed from my last post and the response I’ve had to it from you at Instagram and via e-mail here. I’m so grateful for your expressions and to be on this journey of recovery, and life, with you.
I am a lot of things. But one thing I am not is a quitter. In fact, that is often one of my flaws – I don’t know WHEN to quit sometimes. I’ve been in situations where I’ve just refused to give up or to give in or to let go, even when the situation or person has clearly given up on me. That’s a flaw and a strong point, all at once. I’m not a quitter, even when I should be, and sometimes that causes extraordinary pain in my life. But more often than that, it keeps me alive.
What it really is, at its core, is hope. Even in the throes of depression, deep within me there is this hope. I have not yet defined it for myself, and perhaps it doesn’t need a definition. All I know right now is that it’s what drives me on, and I want to share some quick thoughts with you this morning on that. This has been the core element of my thoughts and feelings since my last post.
I try so hard to encourage people not to give up because it helps me to remain accountable in doing the same thing. Sometimes, that becomes a slippery slope – but in the end, hope – false or not – is never any worse than wanting to die.
I hear often, and used to believe, that false hope was as unhealthy as doubt. When it comes to depression, I don’t believe that at all.
My morning thought for today is this: if you are struggling with depression and you have even an ounce of hope left in you, hold onto it with everything you have.
Hold onto it even if no one else understands it, even if your hands begin to bleed and the hope itself becomes stained with the blood of your pain.
Whether it’s a dream, a person, a desire for your life or for someone else’s, whatever it is is, HOLD ONTO THAT HOPE. It’s so much harder without it, and to see the stains on it when you eventually walk (or crawl) through your depression and back into your joy will remind you, no matter what your hope is, how valuable that hope always was and will be.
I believe that, and I believe in you.